


Medically Speaking

by peridium



Category: Doctor Who, Twilight - Meyer
Genre: 1000-3000 words, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-24
Updated: 2009-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-05 05:37:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peridium/pseuds/peridium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Tenth Doctor finds it necessary to question Dr. Carlisle Cullen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Medically Speaking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alona/gifts).



It's the middle of the day and the hospital is, for once, calm, the only sounds apparent to Carlisle's generally excellent hearing those of routine conversation, check-ups, and medical equipment performing its function. He's sitting in the cafeteria, not, naturally, because he's hungry, but because someone might eventually notice if he never did so, neatly flipping through a copy of _The Seattle Times_ with an untouched bowl of clam chowder.

The illusion of peace accounts for how startled Carlisle is when someone slides into the seat across from him. "Pardon me, but I think we need to talk."

Carlisle lowers his newspaper and finds himself the immediate victim of cognitive dissonance. The man before him _seems_ human enough: a mess of dark hair, a suit, an inability to sit entirely still, even a British accent of some variety. But what he can smell tells him instantly that the man isn't-- not to mention the distinct sounds of two hearts beating in the same chest. "Yes?"

"I'm the Doctor," the stranger begins, leaning a bit closer across the table.

Carlisle cuts him off before he can continue: "Well, so am I. Dr. Carlisle Cullen. And do you have a name or no?"

"No, no, just the Doctor." There's a dismissive gesture and then the Doctor cuts immediately to the chase. "You're not human, now, are you, Dr. Carlisle Cullen?"

This strikes Carlisle as absurd even as he tenses, throws his senses into higher alert, feels time seem to slow down as he begins honestly paying attention to everything around him. There are a thousand ways to escape from this room and this hospital without anyone noticing but him, but no ways that he can yet think of to make the Doctor forget whatever he's learned. He opts for pointing out that "Neither are you."

"Well-spotted," the Doctor admits. "Your disguise isn't terribly good, though-- have you looked at yourself in a mirror lately?"

"It's the best I _can_ do, believe me."

"You can't change your appearance, then?"

"Don't think we haven't tried." The 'we' part of that is out before he can stop it.

"We, you said? Who else is there? I haven't figured out exactly what you are yet, but if there's more than two of you-- I've already met the one--"

"Don't." When Carlisle puts in an effort, he can sound just as steely and intimidating as a proper vampire. "Which did you meet, and where?"

"Out in that rainforest, you must know the one, it seems bigger than it is-- my ship is parked there, it's got a sort of precariously balancing in the trees act going on right now, and I was about to move it when one of your kind appeared and distracted me thoroughly."

Annoyance is rare in Carlisle Cullen, but it's surfacing, just a bit, in the back of his mind. "And did he or she actually hurt you at all?"

"Not _me_, but that deer certainly didn't have a chance to put up a fair fight. I can tell predators when I see them and I can just as easily tell predators that aren't natural and so if you'd just kindly tell me who-- or what-- you are and what you're doing on Earth--"

The strangeness there is enough to give Carlisle pause. "What we're doing on _Earth_? We've never been on any other planet. And--" He hates to make this comparison; Emmett and Jasper especially dislike it, but-- "Predators can be tamed. Have you never been to a circus or a zoo?"

The Doctor hesitates in turn, suddenly still with the exception of his eyes, which can't seem to pick a part of Carlisle to look at. "That does still leave the question of what you are, Dr. Cullen."

"You can't tell? It's easy to work out."

"You've many of the characteristics of traditional vampires here, I'll say that, but it's not all the same-- you're out during the daylight, for example, and you're pale but not obviously the cousin of a corpse, and--"

"You've got it," Carlisle says, a bit apologetically. There's little use in trying to hide it _now_, he's reasoned to himself, and his best chances lie in convincing the Doctor that he and his family are essentially harmless. He pitches his voice lower, though no one is likely to be listening. "Vampires."

"_Vampires_? You can't be--"

"I am," Carlisle interrupts again. "I think you must have seen one of my family members. Can you describe--"

The Doctor makes a vague gesture. "Tallish, skinnyish, reddish hair, a bit of an insane-ish look in his eye. Does that ring any bells?"

Incongruously, Carlisle has to suppress the urge to laugh. "Edward. My son. No, not biological," he adds at the Doctor's incredulous expression, "but my son. I think you're here by mistake, Doctor. We don't hurt people."

"You seem designed to; surely you have the instincts for it."

"Of course. But we retain some of our essential humanity, and instincts can be overcome. I'm a _doctor_, you can see that much. If I didn't have mastery over my own instincts, I couldn't survive as I do working in a hospital, even a small one."

Rather than the disappointment he might have expected, or confusion, a slow grin spreads across the Doctor's face, seeming to light up his entire being with it. "That's fantastic," he tells Carlisle earnestly. "Really, it is. You're turned into something that's meant solely to kill humans and what do you do? You become a _doctor_. That's _excellent_."

Carlisle laughs in disbelief, some of the tension leaving him. "I promise you, Doctor, the Cullens are not your concern. I think you were mistaken after all."

The Doctor is still grinning. "I think you're right, and I know I don't mind." He stands and holds out a hand, and before he can really think about it, Carlisle's on his feet as well and they're shaking hands.

It lasts longer than a handshake ought to, the Doctor giving his hand a firm squeeze before releasing it. "Thank you, Dr. Carlisle Cullen."

"You're… more than welcome," Carlisle answers, dubious but not unwilling to accept a lack of malevolence in this interaction.

He doesn't have to worry about it any longer, at least: with one last bright grin, the Doctor's turned and started to walk away, hands in his pockets. Carlisle is left watching his retreating figure with the distinct feeling that something more significant than he realizes has just happened.

Remembering to begin breathing again-- even he sometimes forgets-- Carlisle sits down and picks up the paper again. Now, where was he? Oh, yes-- the weather in Seattle.


End file.
